


(Bonus) Traffic: An Honest Affair

by Alchemic (Sunshade)



Series: Wiseguy Cases [3]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshade/pseuds/Alchemic
Summary: Bonus entry in Traffic of the Wiseguy Cases series.





	(Bonus) Traffic: An Honest Affair

A lucky man will thank God when the grenade's a dud. If they don't, then they weren't lucky. But Gordon Leary wasn't so sure what to make of his own fortune today.  
  
"Ah, Phelps! Come on in."  
  
Gordon beckoned his department's rising star inside. He'd had his secretary bring in a fresh pot of coffee earlier, the inviting, bittersweet scent drifting invitingly in the air. The station was uncharacteristically quiet, tough that shouldn't be mistaken for peaceful. The staff had only left for the day, so that they could be substituted by those who inhabit the night hours. But as captain of the Traffic department, rarely were Gordon's days a 9-to-5 affair.  
  
"Coffee, Phelps?" He proposed, as he put aside the paperwork he'd been going through.  
  
"Thank you, sir, but I'm alri-"  
  
"Have coffee with me, Phelps." Leary spelled out as he set two cups on saucers laid out on his mahogany desk. Cole took the seat in front of him, hand holding his tie safe to his heart. He looked almost inscrutable, deep in his thoughts, but as Gordon poured coffee into each cup, he could tell something ate at the young detective.  
  
"Sir, what's this meeting about?"  
  
"Bekowsky didn't say? Maybe I didn't mention." He intentionally hadn't. Gordon sat back on his chair, cup in hand. "I'd wanted to talk to you about your future, son."  
  
"My future?" Cole said, then adding belatedly: "Sir."  
  
"You're not in any trouble, Phelps, relax." Gordon laughed. His fingers ran down the side of his jacket, pushing it aside over his leg. "In fact, I think your performance has been nothing short of stellar. I'm not alone in that, either; the press has had only good things to say about L.A.'s Downtown Traffic department ever since you came onboard."  
  
Cole nodded, a faint smile.  
  
"Even Bekowsky's performance has improved." Gordon sipped, licked his coffee-stained lips and mused. "Thanks to you, I imagine."  
  
"I think Bekowsky's a good officer." Cole stated. "Insolent but he gets the job done."  
  
"Hah, listen to yourself, Phelps!" Gordon laughed, slapping the desk with his palm. The saucers shook. "Did they fire me and make you the department's new head?"  
  
"Ahm, that wasn't my intention."  
  
"I'm just messing with you, kid." Gordon chuckled and waved his hand, as if dismissing the unimportance. "All guys fresh out of military sound a lot like you. On that note, do you ever think about returning? Have a go at a career in the Marines?"  
  
"No, sir." Cole replied. "After my injury, I wanted to come home."  
  
Leary nodded, letting the silence drop between them long enough while he sipped his coffee. Cole picked up on the hint. Good man.  
  
"I wanted to be there for my family." Cole elaborated, if with a seemingly practised response. "To provide them with a steady lifestyle; put down roots, as it were."  
  
"Of course." Gordon nodded, eyeing his own wedding ring, as he finally held his cup away from his lips. "Doesn't every honest man?"  
  
But Gordon hadn't been looking for the honest man in Cole. Not that he thought he wasn't; but even the finest officers Gordon had worked with in the past have had an Achilles Heel. It was only human nature. But you can't look into the depths of a man if you're ruling from high above, as Gordon did. And he'd made the mistake of not venturing down often enough. Now, dangerous men thrived too close to his territory.  
  
"Steady work is something I'll happily provide you with, Phelps." Gordon set his cup back on the saucer, standing up. He walked around his office desk, settling on the corner and, with crossed his arms, he offered his usual, lopsided smile. "So long I see you doing your job right."  
  
"Of course." Cole nodded.  
  
"Luckily, your results speak for themselves." Gordon's smile widened, fuelled by almost paternal pride. He'd always have room under his wing for an honest cop and Cole's every triumph had been by the book. Still, he had to wonder: Alcohol? Game? Hookers? It had to be something and Los Angeles had everything to offer.

Gordon didn't care for specifics; he only needed to know if it was small enough and manageable out of sight. That's how you earn your officers' trust. And if they believed Gordon watched their backs, they'd watch his.  
  
"Hell, I'll be honest, kid." Gordon continued. "It's only a waiting game now. Once you've done your time here for a few good years, I'll push for your promotion myself."  
  
"My time, sir?" Cole shifted in his seat and set his coffee aside. "I thought you had no complaints about my performance."  
  
"What, Phelps, raring to leave us behind already?" Gordon drew his eyebrows together and grinned teasingly. He'd noticed a sliver of emotion in the young man's tone, however. Impatience. Desperation. So, was the prospect of the limelight that impelled Cole Phelps forwards?  
  
"No, sir. It's an honour to work here." Cole inhaled, seemingly mulling over his words. "But you said my results were perfectly acceptable. So, to bid time before rewarding work you already appreciate... seems like an arbitrary principle on your part."  
  
Gordon blinked, feigning outward astonishment. So, not quite fame, not quite glory. Unadulterated ambition. Gordon arched his eyebrows, hiding his solemn pride for a post-war debutant who hadn't given up his chase of the American dream. If Gordon were a more sentimental man, it'd bring a tear to the eye.  
  
"What I want is, with no disrespect, Captain, that you judge me fairly on merit." Cole said as he stood up. His tone was more passionate than Gordon had ever witnessed before and what followed surprised him even further. "If my performance hadn't exceeded your expectations, I'd understand. But that's not the case." He walked up to Gordon as he spoke, boldly stopping but a few inches distance from his body. "You aren't looking at me. And I need you to, very much."  
  
The two men held eye contact. Gordon would've broken out in laughter under any other circumstance; afterall, it sounded like his detective had unwittingly declared his undying love. He looked away, covering his grin: this turnout was both endearing, and enlightening. Afterall, as he felt Cole's body heat irradiate in the short distance to his, their crotches too close not to be intentional, the fabric over their sexes rustling faintly against one another, Gordon knew.  
  
Cole Phelps was ambitious enough to kiss the hand that fed him.  
  
"That's, uh, a powerful sentiment, Phelps." Gordon said, clearing his throat. He stepped back from Cole, sitting on the desk, noncommittal. The young detective's poise faltered in increasing regret.  
  
"Sir, I..." Cole begun.  
  
"Let's cut the bullshit." Gordon interrupted, spreading his legs open, the sides of his jacket falling to his sides. His tie dangled down over his stomach. "I know what you're proposing, Phelps. Damn bold of you, too; I've sent men to the doghouse for less. But are you all bark?"  
  
Gordon hadn't really needed to push this. But it suited his original purpose. With all eyes on Cole, how far would his rising star go? Who was Gordon dealing with?  
  
"No, sir." Cole leaned in. His forehead touched Gordon's, meeting his gaze with renewed conviction. "I meant every word."  
  
Then, Cole moved in, the tip of his nose stroking the skin along Gordon's neck on the way down. Gordon looked up at the ceiling and exhaled. He'd known of eager beavers engaging in 'Active Duty', sometimes in an effort to impress somebody. Hell, even Gordon had been an honest tryst to peers in the past. But at the end of the day, neither fruit or husband was his calling; he'd only ever truly married his work.  
  
Yet with the mind no longer on the job, the aches across his tense body surfaced. Cole's touches signalled them much wanted soothing. The man's hot mouth was travelling down Gordon's body, lips touching the white, cotton shirt, leaving remains of moist breath on the fabric. Cole hands ran over Gordon's legs before nudging them apart further. Gordon chuckled as the detective kneeled down to waist height unabashedly. He'd heard Bekowski jab how Cole was intense; but Gordon hadn't ever expected said intensity aimed at himself.  
  
"Here." Gordon spoke, interrupting the other man's lead of the situation. His hand moved to his crotch. "I'll get that."  
  
Cole obediently waited as his captain took the time to unzip himself. Gordon reached through the unzipped hole in his pants and slowly pulled out his shaft, thick even when limp in his palm. He then let go. His large but otherwise relaxed manhood rested free on his crotch for all of Cole Phelps' reach.  
  
Seconds went by as Cole seemingly appreciated him. Despite the temptation to get straight to the point, Gordon let the man have them. This was the crucial moment it all turned out to be a bluff, or not. He wouldn't hold his officer's ambition against him, either way. Afterall, memories reminded a man of life's simple pleasures. Gordon suspected he'd have laugh someday about the present circumstances.

But as Cole landed soft, wet kisses at the base of his shaft, tongue poking at the skin, Gordon thought he might appreciate it today. The detective breathed hotly onto Gordon's skin, as he tasted it in, lips lower and lower around the shaft, until he suckled on the fabric over his balls. Gordon didn't delay the affair; pulling fabric aside, his ballsack popped out of the opening. Cole wrapped his lips over Gordon's balls, tongue running warm over the soft skin.  
  
The captain sighed, his voice rumbling throatily, as the detective gently worked him. This was the kind of appreciation Gordon would welcome more often, but he knew nobody would get anything done without him present to lead.  
  
Gordon was at full mast now, his shaft resting over Cole's cheek, as the rookie insisted in licks and pecks under. He allowed his detective to warm him up with foreplay while Gordon undid his belt. The metal clang as it hit the wood of the desk. Cole pulled down the underwear, revealing Gordon's lower body, short copper-coloured hair running down his legs. The man tasted the skin by his bush with a wet kiss. Gordon grinned, appreciating the sight of a man on his knees; it either meant Gordon was doing his job right, or the other guy was gonna make it a hell lot easier.  
  
Cole reached with his kisses under his balls, tongue edging and poking closer to his perineum. Gordon watched his manhood bounce gently on the man's forehead and chuckled. Goddamn, was Cole Phelps a literal ass kisser? As the young detective insisted to please, the captain sat back on his desk, positioning his hips higher for convenience, indulging him.  
  
His detective didn't disappoint. Soft prodding and exploration soon turned to Cole eating his captain out, teeth scraping at Gordon's sensitive skin. When his tongue drew wet circles around Gordon's opening, the man had to give it to Cole; not a lot people have had the good captain sit back willingly and take it. Cole's tongue pushed against the muscles and Gordon groaned.  
  
"Fuck's sake, Phelps." He might have sounded disapproving but his hand only reached to pull Cole's head deeper into him. He felt Cole push and break through his ring. Gordon held him there for a moment, purred sensually. He then settled his legs over Cole's shoulders, crossing them behind his neck. He laid down fully on his back on his desk and sighed. "Swear to God, my luck you aren't a bluffer".  
  
Cole replied only in wanton grunts as he ate him out. Gordon reached for the buttons of his shirt and undid them one by one, feeling himself growing hotter and hotter. Jolts of sensation sparked across his body, the one he'd singularly dedicated to his work, now quivering with pleasure. Gordon knew then his switch had been flicked and there was no turning back. He bared his teeth, as only animal need drove him. He reached down with his hand and begun jerking himself off to his detective's bottom care. He could feel one, two fingers of Cole's nudging at his entrance, eager to explore inside him. Gordon hissed when entered but that pain was righter than heaven and the only thing he cared for in the world right now.  
  
The detective's fingers pushed inside against his flesh, inching deeper into his body. He could feel the intrusion turn into a pleasurable strain all across his spine. To be at the mercy of another man's touch was usually unsettling. But whereas Gordon was often worshipped for his status, now it was his body that was worth of devotion to another. Eventually, three fingers spread inside him, and Gordon almost came. When Cole pulled out, Gordon almost wished he could smite him with godly might.  
  
"Captain, I..."  
  
"What." He puffed. "What is it, Cole?"  
  
"Sir." Cole nodded, his Marine showing. "Permission to continue?"  
  
Gordon grumbled and lifted his head off the desk. His gaze met Cole, standing and leaning over, watching the captain with barely contained desperation. His hand held onto Gordon's thigh and his rock hard cock was just inches away from his asshole. With his cheeks flushed, and his breathing heavy, Cole looked as if he'd come undone at any moment. Still, he'd minded his manners.  
  
That was endearing. Real fucking endearing. Gordon savoured it, genuinely, for a whole of a second. Then he reached and pulled Cole close by his tie.  
  
"Save the gentleman shtick, Phelps. I'm not your date at prom night." He warned him, both impatience and need overwhelming all priorities. However, his usual cheeky smile followed: "Get inside me; that's an order."  
  
Gordon arched his back as Cole pushed through his tightness. He curled up his toes and bit his lips as the sensation expanded. He let go of Cole's tie, angled his hips higher, gasping at the physical exertion that taking cock demanded. Cole seemed keen to handle him like glass, entering him slowly. While that amused the good captain, he nevertheless wrapped his legs around his detective and pulled him forcibly inside. He let out a moan, the pain sharp, the poke at his prostate heaven. He ran his hand over his sweaty forehead, fingers clawing at his hair. Just under his palm, he saw Cole fight his own battles, eyes closed, resisting rapture as he centred himself and not come undone right there and then. Finally, the young detective set his hands on the mahogany desk and thrust again.  
  
Gordon released a raspy breath. He moaned loud as Cole found his pace in and out of him. Gordon felt goosebumps run down his body, tingling at his fingertips. The noise of his clock on the wall, the desk creaking under his weight, his own needy sounds; nothing fazed him. Being fucked was a simple state of being and god help anybody who'd try and stop him now. He ran his hand down his copper-haired bush and over his hard shaft. The hand travelled further up onto Cole's stomach, stopping at his shirt. His hand grasped tightly at the fabric and Gordon gritted his teeth, as Cole thrust faster into him. Cole's cock felt like a hot rod inside him, the sensation an overwhelming input, pushing his flesh aside. So much so that Gordon hadn't had any strength to muster against the sudden kisses to his neck. He welcomed the insolence instead by holding onto Cole's head and chewing on the man's earlobe. The detective could only stutter as Gordon almost drew blood. Then Gordon retreated, licking his lips at the sight of his spellbound detective, impish amusement across his face.  
  
"Don't dawdle, Phelps." Gordon warned him, indicating the clock on the wall. "We've both got places to be."  
  
Cole obeyed. Gordon's grin lasted through the first, deep thrust. But then the hardness of Cole spreading him apart over and overpowered him. He grunted, hands holding onto the sides of the desk for harbour. The man entered him with steady, powerful thrusts, gasps of air released in-between, like a precise machine under pressure. Cole lifted Gordon's leg over his shoulder, hand over the garters holding the man's sock. He fastened his pace, sliding in and out easier of Gordon's spread hole, a sweet relief when the captain moaned in pleasure.  
  
When Cole held onto Gordon's manhood with his other hand, stroking in sync with his own thrusts, Gordon let out a desperate chuckle. He didn't doubt his detective's intentions, but his exhaustive bedside manner drove Gordon insane. The captain's body contorted as twitches warned him of imminent release, outside of his ability to control. He moaned once, almost growling, then again, loud and clear. He grit his teeth when he unravelled in orgasm, a line of white springing forth from his dick up to his chest, followed by more jets of white staining his shirt and tie, no restraint stopping him from roaring. Cole pulled out, inciting a papercut like pain throughout his asshole, and the sensation emptied Gordon out any remaining seed. Cole buried his head between Gordon's legs, kissing and licking at his sex. Gordon breathed loudly, as aftershocks still pulsated throughout him. He left his hand fall limply on Cole's head, as the man ran his tongue over his exhausted privates, tending to his captain's needs.  
  
Gordon heard the faint sounds of skin slapping, and then Cole's, as he moaned loudly into his crotch. He'd evidently been finishing himself off, tasting Gordon all the while. The captain closed his eyes and listened with a self-satisfied grin to the sweet music of his detective's orgasm.  
  
Surely now, with the man on his knees, his forehead resting on his sex, Gordon knew better than anybody where his detective stood. The seconds ticked by, as their breathing stabilised. In the distance, the sounds of staff beginning their shifts, clueless about the ongoings in Gordon's office.  
  
"Alright, that's enough for today, Phelps." Gordon didn't bother to open his eyes as he waved the detective off him. He felt him yield and pull away. Fabric rustled as Cole's pants were zipped and a belt buckled. Once finished, the detective moved towards the exit. He hesitated, clearing his throat awkwardly at Gordon's nonchalance.  
  
"Sir." Cole begun, hand paused at the doorknob. "I hope you don't misunderstand my intentions-"  
  
"I've already told you, Phelps." Gordon said, finally sitting up. He reached for something inside his drawer and brought a cigar to his mouth. It dangled from his lips as he lit the tip. "So long I see you doing your job right, you've nothing to worry about."  
  
He sensed Cole waver, still. But Gordon was in good enough of a mood to indulge his young detective, ever ambitious to impress and leave a mark. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and eyed him directly.  
  
"And I'll be watching you very closely."  
  
The penny dropped, and his detective finally straightened his back with a relieved nod. The captain hopped off his desk, rounding the corner, unapologetically naked from the waist below, and fell back pantless on his chair.  
  
"I expect you here bright and shiny in the morning for your next assignment, Phelps." Gordon waved his hand in dismissal, trails of smoke following his lit cigarette. He beamed his lopsided smile.  
  
"Go on, get out of my sight."


End file.
